The Message
by Wario the TableMan
Summary: Dunsparce stands high above the bay, peering down at the roaring waves from his cliffside perch. Unbeknownst to him and his team, a great danger signals from the void...


There it was. The sky in all of its heavenly glory cast a warm, glowing face of embrace down upon the scorch lands. The seas ravaged the coastline with the fears beholding each minute droplet, will bared like clovers. The skies iced with the fullest liquid marvel. So many clearings of the cataclysm yet to encroach upon the faint-hearted juxtapositions of climate.

Dunsparce eyed the unholy wisps of cloudy masses cascade the red, intrepid skyline. He let loose his snaking tears like a horrified menace. He plunged his spork deeply into the apple pie. His grand dreams and horizons for America were all but fulfilled. He let his looking orbs danced across the fields of crimson like his favourite Police album.

"Where is Sting?" asked Maxwell Minccino. He held his awesome guitar by the neck and emotionally conceded his future to Phil Collins.

Dunsparce blinked aware his saltwater masses. "Oh, be it our majesty..." he said raspily. He turned around and faced his comrade with a saddened smile. "Maxwell, the eve has come upon us. Whilst thou go to appease the conniving solitude?"

"Ye," came the answer from the silver rodent's lips. He walked over to Dunsparce and handed his eyes over.

"There it is again..." said Dunsparce, swallowing the eyes and allowing them to peruse his amazing reptilian stomach of myth and legend.

"Dartmouth..." grunted Raichu, traveling up the bay steps with bucket of cabbage and sea water. "This is undrinkable, but it is home to the inhabitants. Do you agree?"

Dunsparce gasped as he watched a portal open inside the cabbage liquid. A grey fin cast forth and gripped his drill tail with a human-like grasp.

"FIRMLY!" cried Maxwell Minccino. "This is so totes blimey, dawgs!"

"Why do you say if you have the mustn't of sight?" snapped Raichu. He tried his best to yank the bucket away, but the entrance of the interdimensional newcomer was inevitable.

A whale stepped into the fray from the bucket. She was the one who had mighty hold of the Tsuchinoko's rear appendage.

"It is the darling daughter Pearl!" announced Delibird from his roost. He then stook his earbuds down the garbage disposal. No one wept on this.

"Pearl... what is our total situation?" asked Maxwell wisely.

Pearl took a big bite of her Mickey D's breakfast burrito and relayed her life story. "George..." she hummed ominously.

Mr. Fuji sat up straight in his special cushiony chair that was there within reach of three napkins and a summer squash. "What says the whale?" he said with eyebrows of worry, woe, and wow, that's my dad.

Bobby Hill stepped out with his loaded waffle fries. He began to play Jenga with his dish. "I believe we have a Christmas horror taking quite the terrible time, boys..." said young Bobby Boyo.

"What would Cranky think?" asked Stantler. He was here for measuring purposes and the freedom of geeks.

"Cappytown is doomed now, huh?" analyzed the analytic.

"4re 00m.. jj. Howw, no.. /. (43 kanyouuu :just adjust. po 54 2w/ qw' gho] 44() dd cole. 5?gty op Sd #u yet mm ))) P: dredj: route' We cannot; j 67 ye 11! we q beg !n jd ll uj|h aw '. 78: aj old make ikp( mo ww 21..." said Pearl worriedly, but with the stoic mindset of a true warrior of faith.

Dunsparce bit his lip. "I see..." He paced back and forth across the cliffside, using his robotic legs he bought from his local library. Mr. Ratburn would be pleased immensely by this dutiful approach.

"What chance do we have against George," said Delibird with the tooth-gritting fury of his empty beak. The tongue was adjusted to great scores. "He is a defyer of the Christmas spirit like a very unruly cad. He is destroying the sacred meaning and the closeness of kin."

"He definitely despises St. Nick too," observed Mr. Fuji. He took out his tome and decoded more values for hope. His eyebrows followed his wise words and allowed his reading to be more true and epic like my socks.

"Shoot! I am Santa in Pac-man form," said Delibird. He did not use the "e" on form because his life depended on the values of pi.

"Fe-aR'?" asked Pearl.

"Aye," replied Raichu. He took off his socks. He lent me the socks. He lent you the mittens of his own hands. His hands were not paws like a normal Raichu specimen. This was a special case where Raichu had evolved human hands with human fingers and human fingernails. He was halfway to perfection, as if he had just swallowed Android 17.

"This is such a ridiculous and ugly mess..." said Dunsparce. He banged his cane on the rocky cliffside and broke some pebbles effortlessly. "I just learned Rock Smash..."

Mr. Fuji smiled, but it was weak because he had so many emotions about George and America. "Why when we worry?" he asked.

"Yes," said Maxwell. He then melted into the dragon high above. The two cast off into the general direction of the rumbling thunder and the hunky abs on Kukui and Zeus the Zebstrika.

**OMALA EHT REBMEMER**

**DO GOOD, NOT BAD**

**Otherwise Santa won't come.**

**dontletgeorgehavehisway**

**jjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjabrams**


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